Inspire me, Phoebus, in my Delia's praise, With Waller's strains, or Granville's moving lays! A milk-white bull shall at your altars stand, That threats a fight, and spurns the rising sand. DAPHNIS. O Love! for Sylvia let me gain the prize, And make my tongue victorious as her eyes; 50 No lambs or sheep for victims I'll impart, Thy victim, Love, shall be the shepherd's heart. STREPHON. Me gentle Delia beckons from the plain, Then hid in shades, eludes her eager swain; But feigns a laugh, to see me search around, And by that laugh the willing fair is found. DAPHNIS. The sprightly Sylvia trips along the green, She runs, but hopes she does not run unseen; While a kind glance at her pursuer flies, How much at variance are her feet and eyes! 60 STREPHON. O'er golden sands let rich Pactolus flow, And trees weep amber on the banks of Po; Blest Thames's shores the brightest beauties yield, Feed here, my lambs, I'll seek no distant field. DAPHNIS. Celestial Venus haunts Idalia's groves; Diana Cynthus, Ceres Hybla loves; If Windsor-shades delight the matchless maid, Cynthus and Hybla yield to Windsor-shade. STREPHON. All nature mourns, the skies relent in showers, Hush'd are the birds, and closed the drooping flowers; 70 If Delia smile, the flowers begin to spring, The skies to brighten, and the birds to sing. DAPHNIS. All nature laughs, the groves are fresh and fair, The sun's mild lustre warms the vital air; If Sylvia smiles, new glories gild the shore, And vanquish'd Nature seems to charm no more. STREPHON. In spring the fields, in autumn hills I love, At morn the plains, at noon the shady grove, But Delia always; absent from her sight, Nor plains at morn, nor groves at noon delight. 80 DAPHNIS. Sylvia's like autumn ripe, yet mild as May, More bright than noon, yet fresh as early day; Even spring displeases, when she shines not here; But, blest with her, 'tis spring throughout the year. STREPHON. Say, Daphnis, say, in what glad soil appears, A wondrous tree[6] that sacred monarchs bears? Tell me but this, and I'll disclaim the prize, And give the conquest to thy Sylvia's eyes. DAPHNIS. Nay, tell me first, in what more happy fields The thistle[7] springs, to which the lily[8] yields? 90 And then a nobler prize I will resign; For Sylvia, charming Sylvia shall be thine. DAMON. Cease to contend, for, Daphnis, I decree, The bowl to Strephon, and the lamb to thee: Blest swains, whose nymphs in every grace excel; Blest nymphs, whose swains those graces sing so well! Now rise, and haste to yonder woodbine bowers, A soft retreat from sudden vernal showers; The turf with rural dainties shall be crown'd. While opening blooms diffuse their sweets around. 100 For see! the gath'ring flocks to shelter tend, And from the Pleiads fruitful showers descend. * * * * * VARIATIONS VER. 36. And clusters lurk beneath the curling vines.